


Sam strikes back

by orphan_account



Series: Allergy!verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because he's apparently doomed to listen to his brother banging an angel in the room next door for the rest of his life doesn't mean he can't have some fun of his own.  Sequel to <span class="u">It's just a reflex</span>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam strikes back

Castiel just looks confused when he finds a stash of Head and Shoulders shampoo in his bag one night. Dean pitches a fit, throws a bottle of the offending shampoo at the adjoining wall with a satisfying _thud._

"Not funny, asshole!" Dean yells.

But he can hear Sam laughing his ass off through the thin motel wall, the little bastard.

*

Three days later he finds a page ripped from a magazine stuffed under his pillow. _"I think I'm allergic to my boyfriend. Help!"_ is written across the top in a large purple font. Castiel peers at it curiously, like he's really hoping this Sue Johanson wanna-be is actually going to have helpful advice for their particular situation. Dean balls up the paper and chucks it at Sam's head during breakfast the next morning, which is completely unsatisfying, especially since Sam is giggling so hard there are actual tears coming out his eyes.

"Laugh it up, Sparky, when was the last time you got laid?"

Which kills the happy atmosphere dead, because they all know when the last time was and exactly just how well that had ended. Dean feels like an asshole, but only until Sam kicks Castiel under the table and the angel lets his wings flicker out in surprise. Dean sneezes.

"Fug oo," he sniffles out as he reaches for a napkin.

Sam apologizes to Castiel, who looks vaguely concerned but not actually offended. And then he's back to laughing gleefully at Dean's expense.

Goddammit.

*

Dean doesn't speak to Sam for a week after he reaches for the lube one night and comes up with a bottle of Rhinocort® nasal spray.

"Cas, could you please tell Sam to be careful for once and stop getting himself fucking strangled every two seconds." Dean says as he kicks aside the now-headless body of the vampire that had until just recently been choking his brother.

Castiel sighs.

You'd think the guy would be used to brotherly spats by now.

*

Dean actually feels kinda bad about overreacting and shooting the little robot vacuum cleaner. It was cute and harmless, but really, what did Sam expect to happen when they get back from dinner one night and Dean hears a whirring noise and sees shadows moving under the kitchen table?

Castiel pokes at the parts mournfully, then spends hours tinkering with it and talking with Sam, apparently fascinated by human technology and rudimentary artificial intelligence. Dean doesn't get laid that night and he's forced to admit it's his own fault. By which of course he means it's all Sam's fault.

Sam just grins at him when he glares, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he says, "It was a CleanMate QQ-2."

Sam is either very constipated or he's trying very hard not to laugh.

"I'll...clean _your_...mate..." Dean tries to threaten, then has to leave the room when he sees the distressingly similar looks Sam and Castiel give him. He probably deserved that.

*

"He's not a dog." Dean says stiffly as he hands back the Furminator brush.

Always a stickler for details, Sam points out, "That's actually the cat version. Castiel liked the purple one better."

"He's been _helping_ you with this?!"

"How'd you think I knew where you kept your lube?" Sam shrugs. "Besides, Castiel doesn't think we should give up until we've exhausted all possible options."

"I thought he was talking about his search for God." Dean flails his arms a bit. He figures he's entitled, they'd been coping with his little allergy thing just fine. And how exactly was he supposed to brush down a pair of metaphysical wings, anyway?

"Uh. About that." Sam has the same expression on his face as he did when he was six and tried to make marshmallow s'mores in the microwave. They'd had to pay the motel for a new microwave and a paint job to cover the scorch marks on the walls.

"Sam."

"I gave him this book. You know he's curious and...well, of course you know he's curious. I thought he'd find it interesting, I didn't think he'd take it seriously."

"_Sam._"

"Okay, yes, so he takes everything seriously." Sam walks over to Castiel's duffel and pulls out a small, beaten-up paperback. _Simple Tibetan Buddhism: A Guide to Tantric Living_. Dean grabs the book from Sam and flips through it. He doesn't pay much attention to any of that lotus-position-seek-one-ness crap, but he does know what 'tantric' means.

"You gave Cas a book about finding God through kinky sex?"

Sam snaps into geekboy boy mode in what is clearly a clumsy attempt to change the subject. "It's not actually about physical sex, Dean, you're supposed to meditate on the unio-"

"Sam!"

"Hey, I may have given him the book but I'm pretty sure he started doing extra research on his own. You really think it takes him this long to find burger joint and pick up dinner?"

Dammit. Dean stalks over to the door, he needs to find Castiel and talk him out of whatever half-cocked ideas he's been researching.

"You-" he points to Sam, standing at the threshold "-stay here. And no more pet supplies or 'interesting' books. And, so help me, if Cas finds God with his dick in my ass I'm blaming you." He jabs a finger in Sam's direction for emphasis.

Dean pulls the door shut behind him, satisfied, and listens for Sam's over-dramatic, "Augh, eeww!" He waits until the gagging stops before he heads off to the local library.


End file.
